


The Logical Procedure

by Idonquixote



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: An unhealthy dose of hurt!Spock, Don't question Spock's logic, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I hope my efforts aren't in vain, I use that term loosely, M/M, Spock takes shipping to a godly level, Surak is either proud or face-palming, Triumvirate, Vulcans are hardcore, this is the first and last time I write for this ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 05:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1293637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idonquixote/pseuds/Idonquixote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock realizes that the uniting factor between Jim and Dr. McCoy is himself. Or more specifically, the captain and doctor stand on the same emotional front when the Vulcan is injured. Then perhaps pushed hard enough, they would admit to their not-so-hidden affections. Spock resolves to push the two men together at the expense of physical health. That's putting it lightly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Logical Procedure

**Author's Note:**

> Shipping may be important, but do not attempt to imitate Spock's actions. He is a professional.

Phase 0: Observation

It had been under the first officer's suspicion for quite some time, but he had received no concrete evidence until the incident in the mess hall. Vulcans did not express affection in quite the same way and he was still endeavoring to understand Terran outlets of emotion. Spock noted that Jim's eyes would brighten when he saw certain faces- namely those of his XO and CMO. Jim enjoyed hitting his friends' body parts as a means of affection. Jim would chatter about anything, ranging from his meals to the constellations to whatever antique novel had interested him. When he was upset, he would let them know- he would raise his voice and those eyes would take on an icy flare.

Dr. McCoy was another case. The doctor took a sadistic pleasure in undermining Spock's logic- it brought him joy, much to the latter's irritation. McCoy, when in a good mood, would spout profanities without really meaning them. He would cross his arms and sigh. As a means of affection, the doctor created offensive pseudonyms for those closest to him- even though Jim was the captain and far from pubescence, the doctor insisted on calling him "kid" and the XO was deemed "hobgoblin" "pointy-eared (insert noun here)" "pixie" "elf" "robot" "computer." One would assume these were insults but McCoy's eyes would light up when he used these nouns. When he was upset, McCoy threw tantrums and his face would visibly darken.

But around each other, Spock noted, they were more themselves and not themselves. This he observed when the three of them were isolated from the others. Something would relax in the doctor's demeanor and something would sadden in Jim's. There was a familiarity there he often observed in Nyota's mannerisms when the two of them were alone in her quarters.

"I've never thought about it that way," she once told him when he shared his hypothesis, "but everyone is innocent until proven guilty."

Spock remembered agitation at this. Innocent until proven guilty. He was rarely wrong in his conclusions and to be wrong about the two men closest to him would be most illogical. 

The raw evidence stacked up this way: Dr. McCoy was most irritated when the captain was injured. He would spend the hours silently mending the other's body and when Jim recovered, McCoy took to ignoring him for days on end (a pattern Spock noticed since their friend's brush with death). In turn, Jim's mood would sour and he would behave even more recklessly than usual, as if bidding for the doctor's attention. Spock once pointed this out and Jim flicked him in the ear.

"Don't side with him, pointy!"

"I was merely stating-"

"I am ordering you to shut up and listen to me rant."

When the opposite happened- the doctor had a bit of a martyr complex (which McCoy illogically refused to believe)- McCoy showed no signs of change upon recovery. When it was Jim in the biobed, Spock often accompanied the doctor in other areas of sickbay, silently mulling their worry before visiting the captain when he was close to awakening. When it was the doctor incapacitated, Jim took to sitting by the bed, throwing his duties on Acting Captain Sulu's shoulders; Spock was requested to stay with Jim during this time. Jim would profess his joy quite vocally when the doctor awoke and the two illogical beings would somehow end up in an argument. McCoy's southern accent came out strongest then.

"Damn it, Jim, I don't need you motherhenning me!"

"Well, someone's cranky."

"Remind me not to go on these suicidal missions again."

"Hey, back up- I told you leave us behind- you were the idiot who had to play hero!"

"Oh _please_ \- like you would've done any dif'rent!"

"It's different, Bones! You're my chief medical-"

" _Different_? Dif'rent? I'll show you different, you-"

"Hey, quit being such an asshole!"

"Permission to speak, captain?"

"Shut your trap, hobgoblin!"

"Don't talk to him like that!"

"Doctor-"

"Spock, can't you see we're trying to hold a conversation here?" Blue eyes blazing.

"Jim, that was uncalled for!" Dark eyes widening.

Jim and McCoy would avoid one another for the coming days. It was one week after such an argument that the incident in the mess hall took place. Spock assumed the captain must have been too fatigued to notice the doctor approaching from the opposite side of the hall. The Vulcan was standing behind Jim as he finished replicating an unhealthy meal (Spock suspected it was to spite the CMO, who insisted- or rather forced- Jim to ingest more vegetables). Jim turned around and walked straight into the doctor's heavy path. 

It was too late for Spock to warn them by then. Fried potato slices hit the floor, tomato sauce struck McCoy in the chest, and Jim slammed directly into the other man. It happened quickly, but that moment was all Spock needed to make his conclusion: the captain's ears reddened and the doctor held eye contact for longer than necessary. There was a startled joy in their eyes- guilty.

"Damn it Jim!"

"Sorry, sorry."

As the doctor ranted, Jim stooped to clean his food, both averting eye contact and both blushing (?), Spock surmised that neither was aware of the other's affection, or were otherwise unsure. Now that posed another problem- there was nothing in the way of a bonding between them and yet they played around it. It bothered him more than it should.

"Spock, why are you just standing there?" Jim said to him, "help me!"

"Of course."

There was no logic in his assistance, though- a drone would take care of the mess. He suspected Jim was prolonging his time with McCoy. The doctor rolled his eyes.

\---Phase 1: Stimulation---

To his shame, Spock discovered the key to pushing Jim and McCoy together by accident. It was during an away mission investigating the native people of Megasol 9, a desert planet that had limited contact with outsiders. He had insisted the team keep weapons hidden, lest the natives suspect them of aggression. Of course, Jim failed to listen ("No can do, Spock. I want to be honest this time"). 

The team consisted of a group of trained ensigns (who would hopefully survive this time), himself, the captain, Dr. McCoy, and Nyota. Jim prepared a relatively small team because the planet and its record seemed deceptively peaceful. No altercations. No records of hostility. It wouldn't be until much later that Spock would discover Starfleet failed to tell them no teams have attempted official contact with Megasol 9.

If he was not in control of his emotions, he would have been quite shocked when the natives attacked _on sight_. No doubt Jim's aggressive shouts of "We come in peace!" were not peaceful, nor was the phaser in his hand. They were bombarded with spears sharpened to precision and arrows dipped in fire. The doctor was cursing between breaths.

Spock recalled Jim calling for Mr. Scott when Nyota suddenly shouted his own name. The next thing he was aware of was an acute pain in his shoulder, the tip of an arrow sticking out of flesh- it had stabbed straight through the shoulder. He staggered, just then noticing the attacker in the treetops. 

"Hang on, hang on!" 

He was in the doctor's arms, green blood splashing on the other man's shirt. Everything blurred before he could utter an apology for the mess he caused. He heard Mr. Scott's voice as they were engulfed in light and then no more.

When he came to, the first face he saw was that of the Communications Officer. Her hair was disheveled and she was in a clean uniform. The next thing he noted was the familiar sickbay, only this time, he was the one in the dreaded bed.

"Hey," she said, the relief seeping through.

"Are you well?"

She chuckled lightly. "Am I well? I think you should speak for yourself."

He struggled to sit up, but her hands held him down. In this state, he was unable to resist. His eyes flicked to the bandages wound around his shoulder, tight and binding. "The others?"

"Two wounded ensigns. The captain and Dr. McCoy got away unscathed."

"The mission?"

"Not exactly successful, Mr. Spock. But seeing as we weren't properly warned and given... your injury, there shouldn't be any repercussions."

His reply was cut off by the doctor's voice. "You're as bad as Jim, damn near gave me a heart attack, hobgoblin." Spock wanted to point out the fallacies of that statement but stopped when he saw the doctor's worn, relieved face.

McCoy bent over him, checking the monitor above them. "Let's see, pain levels gone down, skin on the mend, you came out of the trance soon enough- couldn't sleep a wink, not that'd it'd mind you." He touched the bandage. "It was poisoned, you know. Damn lucky I got it out."

"I am most appreciative."

"You can thank me by staying out of trouble."

Spock spent the next few hours falling in and out of a painless sleep. When he last awoke, Nyota had returned to her shift but the captain had come in. Jim sat by him with a sheepish smile, first informing him of the complaints he made against headquarters, then of the fate of Megasol 9 (contact would happen with a larger fleet), and lastly of his own relief.

"I would come earlier, but you'd probably prefer I keep to my duties, huh?"

"It was most astute."

"Well, just wanted to say next time, I'll listen... And, ah crap, I feel awful about this. I'll make it up to you. How about-"

"How 'bout you both make it up to _me_? Any idea how many years of life I lost over you two?" The doctor had passed by once more. And Spock noted a lack of aggression on his face. There was a lack of animosity from Jim as well. For once, the two were had the same sympathies in sickbay. Fascinating.

"It's okay, Bones. I know you love us," Jim said with a grin, patting McCoy on the shoulder. 

"As much as I love gettin' old!"

"We love you too, isn't that right, Spock?" And Jim pulled a cursing McCoy down to his level, other arm including Spock in the embrace. In normal circumstances, Spock would have rebuffed that expression but he was on the verge of a breakthrough.

The uniting factor between Jim and McCoy was himself. And more specifically, if he was the injured party, Jim and McCoy would stand on the same emotional front. They would not clash. Then perhaps if he pushed them hard enough, they would admit to their not-so-hidden affections.

\---Phase 2: Implementation---

Vulcans do not lie. Spock admitted the next few incidents were not quite accidental. On the next away mission, the team was accosted by Orion pirates en route to a rural Andorian village in need of supplies. With a few scrapes and bruises, they were able to put up a reasonable fight against the Orions.

"Ensign, go!" the captain shouted, covering the path with phaser fire. The ensigns ran ahead, supplies in tow. 

Spock saw one of their assailants point his firearm at the captain's chest. It would take him less than a second to reach Jim and from the angle he planned, the blow would not be serious enough to end his life. He threw himself in front of Jim, the weapon shooting him in the back. He calculated that he would remain conscious for several more seconds- he used that time to stun the assailant. And then he was gone, Jim's frantic voice calling his name on repeat.

As expected, the doctor was not pleased when he awoke. Third degree burns, severe blood loss, what the hell was he thinking? Spock contested it was the logical choice (in more ways than one). This time Jim hadn't left sickbay at all, choosing to sit by the Vulcan's side for six hours. That was more than sufficient time for him to bond with McCoy. 

"What were you doing for this duration of time, Jim?" he asked, hoping it hadn't led to coitus yet.

"Damn, what do you think? Staring at you- you looked dead!"

"And the doctor?"

"He'll kill me if I tell you, but when do I care what he thinks- he was staring too."

Limited progress, but progress nonetheless. 

Ensign Watters was a young man fresh from the academy, clumsy on his feet and prone to mistakes. For the sake of Spock's plan, he was perfect. Fortunately, Watters was also quite an accomplished academic, which factored into why Spock brought him along on the science team's investigation of foreign terrain.

Of course, the injury he had hoped for was a fractured wrist at most. He logically hadn't anticipated that Watters would wander into an enclave and pull out a rock holding a barrier together. Before the ensign could cry for help, the Science Officer was already there. He shoved the other man aside and was promptly hit by a boulder. He was aware of the crunching of bone and the taste of blood, a few more moments of agony as his team shouted, Watters' cries the most urgent, and then nothing.

McCoy needed to beat him out of the healing trance this time. Spock suggested the doctor took pleasure in doing so. Five broken ribs, a punctured lung, a crushed leg, internal bleeding, a concussion, oh fuck it- what the hell's your problem, hobgoblin!?

"Uhura never left- had to make her go to sleep an hour ago, you just don't want _me_ to sleep, I think," the doctor complained, checking the vitals.

"Tell Lieutenant Uhura I apologize for-"

"Apologize to your girlfriend and not to me, typical! And that kid you brought, Jack Watters- might wanna talk to him, he's been sobbin' over you for just as long."

"It was not his fault." Not entirely at least.

McCoy berated him for a while longer. Spock drifted into unconsciousness eventually. When he came to again, he heard the captain's voice.

"How is he?"

"Better."

"I haven't panicked in a long time, Bones... you know that."

"Jim."

"I don't know- I'm scared, or I was scared. I can't lose anyone else, Bones- I just can't, especially not him."

"Don't tell him I said so, but... neither can I."

The conversation died down. The two were revealing extra layers of emotion to one another. This intimacy would only grow, as was the logical path.

When he was cleared for duty, Spock once again accompanied the captain on a dubious mission, this time Chekov in stride and McCoy absent. The assignment was to bypass a Klingon outpost and rescue hostage Federation members. It went by with shocking smoothness, the guards busy chatting with Nyota, a surprisingly convincing illegal tradeswoman, over prices. They were discovered only after the hostages were free: there were only three.

The captain nearly succeeded in loading the pallid hostages (two male, one female, varying degrees of damage that the doctor would have to attend) onto their craft when the team was discovered. If there was anything to be learned from this, it was that the Klingon guards were not as stupid or illogical as Starfleet assumed.

Several shots were fired and Jim ended up rolling on the ground, shouting orders for phaser fire ("Don't just stand around!") and retreat ("Ensign, get out of there!"). Flashes and fire. Dropped weapons. Cries of pain from both sides. In all the chaos, two guards lost their firearms and the youngest member of Jim's away team was knocked down. 

The choices were clear: the Vulcan could continue to aid his captain and let Chekov brave the Klingons or he could trust the others with Jim and aid the Russian. In the latter case, there could only be one result. So he made the logical decision.

He pushed his phaser into Jim's hand, the captain's having been lost in the scuffle, and rushed toward Chekov. He already knew what the Klingons closing in were planning- he threw himself over the younger man and wrapped both arms around Chekov's frame. 

"Mister-!" Chekov gasped.

"Stay put."

Spock made no sound throughout the beating that ensued, the blows hammering into his body without pause. The youth under him was the one screaming, clawing and trying to push him aside, but the first officer would not budge. The cries grew more frantic as green flecks appeared on Chekov's face.

He must have passed out eventually because the next thing he recalled was the light of sickbay. The young lieutenant was slumped in a chair beside him, wrapped in a blanket like a Terran schoolboy. 

From the corner of his eye, Spock saw the backs of Jim and McCoy on the other side of the biobed, the doctor gripping Jim's shoulders and speaking in low whispers.

"Don't go beating yourself up over it, kid."

"You weren't there."

"Damn it, Jim. You think I ain't feeling the same?"

"Bones-"

"Every damn time, if it's you or him or anyone there, I've been in the exact same spot you're in now."

McCoy sighed. "Remember at the academy? Told you sometimes I hate bein' the doctor."

"Someone has to do it."

"Someone's got to. So look me in the eye, kid, and lemme tell you that I'm gonna make this all better."

They turned toward each other, faces less than an inch away. "Thanks," Jim blurted. Then both turned around and Spock forced his gaze elsewhere. McCoy was by his side in an instant, ranting about his awful Vulcan physiology and how it was a damn miracle he was still alive and he could show the good doctor a little gratitude for saving his life the fourth time in a row. Broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, spinal bruising, internal bleeding, damned lucky he had his Vulcan voodoo.

All the noise woke Chekov up ("Keptin, vhen did you come?"). Jim then briefed his first officer on the aftermath of the last mission, gaze flicking to McCoy every now and then. It was pleasing progress. One hour and twenty minutes later, McCoy ushered Jim out of sickbay, hinting that he was giving the remaining time to Chekov. Spock was left listening to the young man's emotional expressions of gratitude and sorrow, while doing his best to assure Chekov the fault was not his. And yes, he regretted nothing.

Nyota, however, was less cheerful. Chekov was gone by the time she visited and though her face was impassive, Spock caught a glimpse of suspicion in her eyes. 

"What are you doing?" she asked, stroking his bandaged temples, "and what are you hiding from me?"

"Nothing illogical. And I hide nothing."

"Well, that answers nothing... You're more careful than this- Pavel told me what happened. Why not attempt to fight instead of this flashy stunt?"

"I knew I would survive. The captain and Dr. McCoy, however, did not."

"Neither did I." She sighed and said no more, but he could still sense the suspicion emitting towards him. 

Innocent until proven guilty. He wanted to tell Nyota how very guilty Jim and McCoy were becoming, but he would have to wait until the final result to be sure. 

Spock arrived in sickbay again, following an explosion in the science lab. It was due to a subtle but improper use of chemicals. Jim suspected his mind wasn't in the right place because he hadn't yet recovered from previous injuries; it would be illogical to debate the captain (the truth was this accident was staged) so he silently agreed. Several burns and a minor concussion, followed by another scolding from the doctor.

During his convalescence, Spock saw the doctor laughing more readily at Jim's attempts at humor.

On the next away mission, the Vulcan's arm was nearly torn off by a giant carnivorous plant. Ensign Rand claimed he had saved her life by jumping in harm's way (the truth was he had been planning to provoke the plant on his own, but Rand beat him to it. The logical choice was to trade her well-being for his) and Lieutenant Sulu had arrived in time to save them both (the truth was Spock already knew Sulu's arrival was impending, eliminating the chance of permanent danger). 

Although he was forced to keep the bandaged arm in a sling, Spock again succeeded in his task. This time, Jim helped McCoy categorize hyposprays (though the doctor ordered the captain away because Jim's good intentions didn't yield the best results).

He was struck by lightning on yet another mission. He had shoved an ensign aside, and given the misfortune of redshirts, it was only logical that Spock stay close to the ensigns. At this point, the crew was lauding him as a martyring hero, with a few suspecting he was depressed to the point of suicide, and others believing him to be some sort of hidden saint. Spock only cared about the captain and CMO's reactions. Each time they appeared to grow closer, touching each other with more frequency, exchanging meaningful whispers. 

He took several poisonous spores to the chest rather than tell the captain to move out of the way. He was shot in the back by flintlock while covering the doctor. He was stabbed a total of three times while removing an Orion slave from her captors. Spock spent more time in sickbay than he did in his own quarters and McCoy was running out of colorful insults to throw at him.

Upon regaining consciousness, the Vulcan caught sight of Jim grabbing McCoy's hand. The latter did not resist.

\---Phase 3: Realization---

"I'm not clearing that hobgoblin for duty this time," McCoy grumbled, furiously typing the rest of Spock's medical report. Jim sat behind him, a glass of brandy in hand.

"He said he'd be more careful."

"That's a load of bull, and you know it, Jim."

Jim laughed dryly. "I'm not happy about it, but come on, what can I say to him? He didn't do anything I wouldn't have."

"Well, I've had just 'bout enough of that computer's heroism. More like suicide, if you ask me."

Jim frowned. He set the drink down. "Bones, you don't think that's it, do you? There are rumors."

"More bull. I'd know a man with a problem if I saw one. And Spock ain't one of them."

McCoy swiveled his chair around to face the captain, rubbing sore eyes. 

"Are you gonna drink the rest of that?"

"Had enough for one day. Here." Jim picked up the glass and brought it to the older man. McCoy reached for it and their fingers brushed, or more accurately, stayed in touch. It took a good few seconds for both to register what happened.

"When did this start?" Jim asked awkwardly.

"What."

"This... touching."

"Damn it." McCoy didn't know the answer. Probably somewhere during the many nights in sickbay, when they were both stiff with worry over the damned hobgoblin and Jim would only accept physical comfort. But like hell he was going to say that out loud.

"You know, it's not that bad."

Gently, Jim pushed the glass toward McCoy's mouth. The doctor opened it enough for Jim to pour a sip in. "Holdin' hands?" McCoy snorted.

"No, I mean-" Jim's face reddened. "I've been thinking a lot, coming to sickbay a lot more than I should, and I really hate this place, Bones, but it has one redeeming factor. You wanna know what?"

"Spit it out."

"Well, this idea of- you and me and... oh fuck it." The glass spilled and Jim lunged forward, mouth crashing over his former roommate's, his best friend's, his CMO's, his Leonard's.

McCoy shoved him off. "What the hell, look at this mess!"

Jim stared at the brandy on the floor and McCoy's pants. Then the doctor glared at him. "Why are you standin' like a deer in the headlights? Did I say I wanted you to stop, kid?"

And Jim was on him again, tongues playing and lips meshing, hands running over hair, uniforms rubbing. Then it all came to a halt when they pulled apart at the same time and said collectively: "Damn it."

McCoy looked ready to kill. "That pointy eared bastard! This is what he wanted!"

"He fucking played us!"

"No wonder he kept goin' on about your blue eyes-"

"-And asking me how I felt about your biceps."

"-kept askin' me about you when he woke up."

"Did the same to me, asking about Dr. McCoy-"

"Avoiding questions, logical my ass-"

"I'm going to kill that Vulcan asshole."

McCoy pulled Jim back, arms firmly around the captain's shoulders. "No, kid, _we're_ gonna get that hobgoblin."

\---Phase 4: Retribution---

The last thing Spock remembered was a blinding explosion and his own body over the captain's. He was once again in sickbay, having been recently smacked out of a deep healing trance. The lights seemed to be even whiter than he remembered, which was strange since he had been in the same biobed so many times he should be acquainted with the lighting levels by now.

Jim's face came into view. The captain cracked a smile at him, but there was glint of... something in Jim's eye. It was the glint his mother used to have on the Terran holiday of April Fool's. 

"Feeling better?"

"I am adequate."

"Well, just wanted to say thanks. You didn't have to."

"It was my duty."

"Bullshit. But that's not the point. Now that I've got that out of the way, we want to share something with you."

McCoy's head came up beside Jim's. "Me and Bones are... uh, in a relationship." "And it's gonna be the death of me. Thought you'd want to hear that."

"On the contrary, doctor, it is a most logical choice."

"Glad ya think so, Spock." The smiles on their faces turned to frowns, angry frowns.

"Think we didn't know this was your plan all along?" Jim said.

"Made me go through hell just to kiss this idiot kid!"

"Do you know how worried I was?!"

"Damned lucky your rib cage's still in tact! Any idea how hard it is ta get T-negative blood!"

"What kind of fucking logic is this? What the fuck, Spock?"

"I'm not some damned toy your Vulcan ass can play with!"

"Friends don't do this to each other!"

"-let's count this time: third degree burns, broken leg-"

"If it was me, I'd just say 'hey Jim, I'll be your wingman, not go get myself half killed every damn chance I get'-"

"-fractured wrist, contusions all over-"

Their voices rose and Spock was unable to cut in, both men physically closing in on him. Any closer and they would be lying on top of him.

"-and I want a ten thousand word apology-"

"-internal bleeding and hell knows what else. What the ever loving hell was your Vulcan mind thinking!?"

"-Got it?"

Jim and McCoy were panting, chests heaving from the verbal onslaught. Spock could only stare. His mouth opened.

"Not another word, mister!" Jim ordered. Spock closed it.

"So you just sit 'ere and think about what you've done," McCoy added.

"And you're grounded. Off duty until I give the clear."

"C'mon, darlin'. Let's go and give him some time to repent." McCoy walked away, arm-in-arm with Jim, the latter pointing two fingers at his own eyes and then directing the same fingers at Spock. "I'm watching you," he mouthed.

When they left his bed, Spock stared into space, waiting for another face to appear. When Nyota came into view, his mouth curved slightly. 

"Guilty," he said.

Her lips pressed against his. "If it's a reward you want, that was it." Then she smacked him. "And now there's hell to pay."

Nyota sat on the bed. She wasn't planning on leaving for quite a while and in spite of his victory, Spock heard himself gulp. It was the logical reaction.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment. 
> 
> My confession: I don't like McKirk... at all. I'm also not that big a Spock/Uhura fan. So I hope I managed to write these ships adequately enough and that if you do ship these ships, you had a fun time with the fic!


End file.
